


Tough Decisions

by dandellionpuff



Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Dr. Cox is a doctor, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 11:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandellionpuff/pseuds/dandellionpuff
Summary: Elliot's injured in the alleyway next to her apartment. But it's not a big deal, right? She's a grown woman. A doctor. Of course she can handle it on her own. It's just a broken wrist. A cut on her collarbone. Maybe a few other injuries. Only one or two, or three-ish. Okay, maybe a few more than that. She's completely fine. If only she could get to her med kit... Her apartment's only 10 feet away and a couple floors up, after all. Only problem is, she's having trouble standing.Elliot needs help, she finally admits to herself. Except JD's on call and Turk and Carla are out of state. God forbid she call for an ambulance and get taken to Sacred Heart. The humiliation alone.What's there left to do but call Dr. Cox? He's a competent doctor, he excels at making quick decisions, and when it really matters, he's a beacon of wisdom, she considers. He doesn't pity patients, he gives it to them straight, and most of all he cares about them. She trusts him, she realizes. And that's enough.With shaking hands, she picks up her cell phone and scrolls through her contacts. Before she can change her mind, she presses the call button.Or, Dr. Cox is a doctor first, and then a friend.





	Tough Decisions

Elliot's torn scrubs clung to her body. The world felt sideways, like everything had shifted and twisted and turned all at once. She felt like she was going to vomit. She ghosted her fingers over the bump on the back of her head and hoped she didn't have a concussion. That would make doing her rounds at the hospital very difficult. Of course she'd do it anyway, but residency was hard enough without the added challenge.

She propped herself up against the wall and hissed at the pain in her wrist. It was probably broken, she surmised. The cut above the right side of her collarbone stung. She briefly wondered how deep it was and considered turning the corner to her apartment to clean and bandage the wound, but her thoughts were too jumbled and her legs felt like jello. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. She wasn't scared. It was just a cold night was all.

She didn't cry. Instead, she sat there, alone in the alleyway, silent.

She attempted to struggle to her feet, but the world began to spin and a wave of nausea washed over her and knocked her back down. She groaned in pain. She needed help, she finally admitted to herself.

She couldn't call for an ambulance. Not to Sacred Heart. That would be humiliating. She couldn't call JD. He was on call and his patients needed him more than she did, she rationalized. Besides, he'd never look at her the same way again. She would’ve called Carla, but she and Turk were away visiting her sick aunt.

She held in a sob. She wasn't fine. She really wasn't, and now she was out of options. She'd never felt more alone.

She tried to pull it together to formulate a plan. She was smart, she was resourceful, she could get things done. She'd been at the top of her class in med school.

She scoured her brain for the answer. She should call 911, set aside her clothes for evidence, avoid showering, get tested for STDs, get an... examination. But it all felt wrong somehow. Her textbooks hadn't prepared her for this.

"Get it together, Barbie," she could imagine Dr. Cox barking. "Nobody cares if you made honor roll. You can't study your way into making tough decisions."

Tough decisions. Tough decisions like calling someone competent and capable of helping her, even if the thought alone nearly made her heart stop. Tough decisions like calling Dr. Cox. Sharp, wry, often cruel Dr Cox. But he was a good doctor, he excelled at making quick decisions, and when it really mattered, he was a beacon of wisdom. She'd seen him with patients. He didn't pity them, he gave it to them straight, and most of all he cared about them. She trusted him, she realized. And that was enough.

With shaking hands, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. Before she could change her mind, she pressed the call button.

Her senses were overstimulated, and the dial tone pounded in her ears like a siren. Maybe this was a mistake. Just as she was about to hang up, he answered.

Elliot didn't know where to begin. "Hello, I-"

"Barbie? Is that you?" he growled. "What's so important that you felt the need to call me in the middle of the night?"

Elliot hadn’t thought this far in advance and had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Dr. Cox snapped.

Elliot tried her best to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I need help," she choked out.

"I'm not on call, Barbie. That means leave me the hell alone."

Oh God, he was angry. She should have known he'd be angry. It was his time away from Sacred Heart, of course he wouldn't want to spend it treating yet another patient.

"I'm sorry," her lip began to quiver.

She was in so much pain that it all blended together, and when she moved to adjust herself into a more comfortable position, her wrist dragged along the concrete. She instinctively yelped. "I'm so sorry, go back to sleep. This was stupid. I'll figure it out."

"Hold your horses, Barbie. Do you want to explain to me what the hell is going on?"

Her voice caught in her throat. "I can't. I- I can't. Please just come here."

Dr. Cox paused for a moment, evaluating the situation. "Where is here?"

"Outside my apartment," she whispered. “Corner of 4th and Main."

"Lose your keys?” He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned, but sarcasm was his default, and he didn’t know how else to respond. "It's not that bad a neighborhood, Barbie. Call one of your little friends."

"No, I-" she just barely held back the panic in her voice. "I need help. Please."

"Friend help or doctor help? Cause I'm sure as hell not one of your friends,” Dr. Cox struggled to maintain his dry humor. He was beginning to suspect that this situation might be more dire than he initially assumed.

Elliot let out a single uncontrollable sob before silencing herself with her hand. Her bad hand. She cried out.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Dr. Cox was already putting on his jacket and halfway out the door. "There in 15."

Elliot hung up. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself. Curse words usually made her uncomfortable, but none of it mattered anymore. In fact, nothing mattered at all anymore. She noted her indifference, but was too empty to feel anything about her observation.

She imagined what she must look like with her torn clothes, face framed by wild, bloody, matted hair, bruises and scrapes littering her neck and arms, still bleeding from the wound above her right collarbone. Not to mention her wrist, which hung limp because any movement was a 9 or 10 on the pain scale. She was injured in other places too. Other places that weren't visible, but that she couldn't hide. She looked down at the blood seeping through her pants on her inner thighs. She gagged. God, there was blood everywhere. She'd need to pick up new scrubs tomorrow, she absentmindedly considered.

She conjured up images of Dr. Cox finding her like this. "Good God, woman," he'd give her a once over with his eyes. "Did you have a run-in with a woodchipper?"

Elliot laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed, until she started crying. She cried and cried, and she couldn't stop, not even when she hated herself for it. She was supposed to be stronger than this, but she knew she wasn't. She'd thought so since the beginning, really, but now her fears were confirmed.

She didn't notice Dr. Cox enter the alleyway until he was already kneeling before her. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into it. She hadn't realized how much she craved a comforting human touch. He took her cue and moved a little closer.

"You alright, Barbie?" he spoke softly and gently. Like she was a wounded little lamb, she noted with frustration. She wanted to tell him not to baby her, that she was an adult and deserved to be treated as such, but she didn't have the words.

“Can you tell me where it hurts?” His eyes briefly flashed over her body. He furrowed his brow and attempted to conceal a frown, but it was clear that his mind was moving a mile a minute.

Elliot began to sob harder. Dr. Cox shifted to sit beside her against the wall and rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles. "It's ok, Elliot. You're going to be okay. Let it out," he soothed.

Elliot looked up at him in annoyance and forced out the words. “You can call me Barbie, you know."

Dr. Cox raised his eyebrows. "Alright, Barbie."

He wanted to ask what happened. He wanted to know who hurt her. But he had to get his priorities in order. Now was not the time to focus on the emotional trauma. First he had to make sure she was physically okay. She needed a doctor, not a shoulder to cry on. He didn’t even know how to be a shoulder to cry on.

He continued to rub her back in an effort to soothe her. "So what do you say we call you an ambulance?"

Elliot's head shot up in annoyance. "If I wanted an ambulance then why would I have called you?"

"Moral support?" he joked bitingly.

She liked his wry jokes. They made her feel normal almost.

"In all seriousness, Barbie," he continued. "I'm not sure how much I can help you here. This looks bad."

"I know it's bad," she sharply responded. "I'm a doctor."

“You know if you don’t formally get treatment you can’t take this to court,” he wanted to make sure she understood the stakes.

“I know,” she decisively responded.

"Have it your way, Barbie," Dr. Cox shrugged his shoulders. If she said so. "But if this is more than I can handle, here and now, I'm taking you to the hospital whether you like it or not. Deal?"

She just looked up at him with wide eyes, jaw clenched.

"Listen, you called me. This is my judgement call."

Her posture relaxed a little and she slowly nodded. She was mentally and physically overwhelmed, and it was nice to have someone else take charge of the situation.

As she began to calm down, he examined her injuries with his eyes. He first noted the wound above her right collarbone. It looked like it would need a good cleaning and a few stitches, and she'd probably need a tetanus shot, but overall she'd be fine.

He took off his jacket and pressed it to the wound to stop the bleeding. An inch up and it would’ve been at her throat. "You're lucky this wasn't higher."

"I know," she repeated. "I'm a doctor."

He noticed she was cradling her right hand. It was swollen and bent at an unnatural angle.

"Let me see."

He reached out to gently pull her arm towards him. Elliot made no move to stop him. He held her arm up with one hand and supported her hand with the other.

"Can you make a fist?"

"No," Elliot whispered. Her voice was so raw that she didn't recognize it.

"Come on, try for me," he encouraged.

She looked at him warily, but she did as she was told. Her hand barely moved, and she stifled a cry.

"Good girl." He continued to hold her arm. "Now I have to touch it, okay?"

She nodded. She was strong. She could do this. Dr. Cox wouldn't hurt her unless it was medically necessary, she repeated over and over again in her head. He was helping her. She had to let him do his job. She had to be brave.

As he poked and prodded, Elliot's heart began to beat faster. Oh God, it hurt so much.

Before she could yank her arm away, he stopped.

"Your wrist is definitely broken." Sounded about right to Elliot. "Your hand too, most likely. And maybe a few fingers."

"Okay," she responded. She didn't know what else to say.

“What do you say we go upstairs and wrap that?"

"Can I- Can I just have a moment?"

“Sure, Barbie. Whatever you need."

He was being far too nice, and it bothered her.

“I’m not a doll,” she grit her teeth. “I’m not going to break."

“You’re the one who insisted I call you Barbie, sweet cheeks,” Dr. Cox shot back.

Elliot saw his lips moving, but didn’t hear the words. Without warning, the world began to spin and Elliot was hit with a wave of nausea. Her breaths came in short gasps, and she felt like she was choking on air, like there was too much and not enough at the same time. She lifted her legs up and put her head between them.

“Breathe,” he knelt in front of her again. “It’s okay. Breathe. You’re okay.” He’d had panic attacks before and suddenly felt a little less helpless. “In…, Out…, In…, Out…,” he encouraged. Her breathing started to even out a little. “That’s it. You’re doing a great job."

He put a hand on her shoulder again, but this time she shuddered at his touch. He backed up to give her some space, and immediately froze. Now that her legs were up and visible, the blood seeping through her scrubs on her inner thighs was apparent. He doubted she wanted him poking around down there, but he’d certainly have to address this.

“How are you doing?” he asked as her breathing slowed.

“I’m- I’m ok,” she insisted. When she looked up and saw the concerned look on his face, she forced a half grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine! I really am. I promise."

“Uh huh,” he didn’t seem convinced.

When Elliot followed his gaze, she began to panic. He already knew of course, but now he really knew. He knew how much it hurt, how damaged she was, how pathetic.

“You know what?” she looked at him with that fake little half-smile. “I’m feeling a lot better. Would you help me up the stairs and into bed? I think I just need to sleep it off. It’s not as bad as it looks, anyway. All just flesh wounds, nothing I can’t handle by myself with a good ol’ med kit,” she nervously rambled.

“I’ll help you to your apartment."

Elliot visibly relaxed.

“But I sure as hell am not leaving you alone in this state,” he finished.

She shot him a glare and then attempted to push herself against the wall into a standing position with her good hand. The pain was dizzying. As soon as she was up on her feet she began to sway, and Dr. Cox rushed to catch her before she hit the ground and further injured herself.

“Clearly this isn’t going to work,” he said dryly as he helped her back into a sitting position.

Elliot grabbed her stomach and retched.

“First order of business,” Dr. Cox took charge, “We need to get you up to that apartment. You can’t stay here."

“Well yeah,” Elliot looked up at him in frustration. “Obviously."

“Am I going to carry you up or are we going to get a gurney to lift you into an ambulance?” he fired back.

Elliot went quiet. After a few moments, she nodded.

“If it makes you feel any better, you can tell people you walked,” Dr. Cox offered.

“Neither of us are telling anybody anything,” Elliot scowled.

As he reached to pick her up bridal style, Elliot instinctively flinched away from his touch.

“Hey,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you."

“You’re lying,” Elliot looked at him accusingly. “I-“ her lip began to tremble. “It hurts when I move."

“You’re going to have to get up sometime,” Dr. Cox encouraged.

“Apartment 2E,” Elliot grumbled. “Just make it quick, okay?"

“You got it, Barbie.” As he lifted her into his arms, she cried out in visible pain. He almost felt bad, but as a doctor he understood that sometimes unpleasantness was a part of the road to recovery. “Wrap your arms around my neck."

As she struggled to lift her bad hand into a position that didn’t hurt, Dr. Cox amended his statement. “Arm."

Dr. Cox moved up the stairs quickly. The sooner it was over the better. With every step, Elliot winced.

“How’re you doing?” Dr. Cox asked once they reached the 2nd floor landing. He set her down against the wall on the floor in front of her apartment.

“I’m okay,” Elliot pushed the words out through the pain.

“Do you have your key?"

Elliot shook her head and looked at the ground in shame. “He took my purse,” she answered miserably.

“Goddammit,” Dr. Cox swore.

“There’s a spare above the doorframe, if it’s still there,” she offered.

Dr. Cox reached above the door and shuffled his hand until his fingers found a key. He let out a sigh of relief. “Got it."

He let himself into the apartment, lifted Elliot, and gently deposited her onto the couch by the door.

“You’re going to ruin my couch!” Elliot protested.

“Let’s be real, it wasn’t that nice to begin with,” Dr. Cox tried his best to keep the mood light despite the situation. “Let’s fix you up, shall we? Where’s that med kit?"

“In the bathroom under the sink,” she pointed. She breathed deeply in relief. For the first time all night, she felt that everything was going to be okay.

When Dr. Cox returned, he held a wet washcloth in one hand and the med kit in the other. “We’ve got some dissolvable stitches,” he took stock of the contents. “No anesthetic,” he looked at her questioningly, as if to ask if she was sure she didn’t want to head to the hospital. “Last chance to change your mind. This is going to hurt like a bitch."

She smiled wryly. “Can’t hurt more than it already does."

“Alright then.” Dr. Cox kneeled before her. He poured alcohol over the needle to sterilize it, and gently ran the washcloth over the cut on her collarbone, and then over the scrapes that littered her face and arms. He looked up at her one more time, and when she nodded, he took the needle to her skin.

Elliot held back a wince. Dr. Cox paused and looked up at her, but he continued when she nodded.

“Just get it over with,” she insisted.

After a few excruciating minutes, he took the med kit’s tiny pair of scissors to the string.

“I got to say Barbie, I’m impressed. You took that like a champ.”

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” Elliot looked up at Dr. Cox with fire in her eyes.

“Um, I don’t know. Go to the hospital to get checked out nice and properly?” Dr. Cox sarcastically quipped.

Elliot just glared at him.

“Alright. Moving on,” Dr. Cox reached into the med kit to pull out a roll of ace wrap. “We can’t make you a cast, but we can make a splint and wrap this really, really tightly around your hand."

“Will that work?” Elliot’s medical training kicked in. “Will there be enough support?"

“It’ll have to be,” Dr. Cox shrugged. “Unless-"

“I already said no,” Elliot sharply interrupted. “I’m done with your suggestions, or suggestion really, because you’ve been like a broken record, and-"

“Hey.” Dr. Cox cut her off. “I get it. I’m here to help, you know."

Elliot sighed and composed herself. “I’ve got some popsicle sticks we can use for my fingers. In the top drawer,” she nodded towards the kitchen.

Dr. Cox raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Elliot responded defensively. “I’ve got popsicle molds! For fruit juice!"

“Well you’re very lucky you’ve got a popsicle habit, Barbie,” he grabbed a few popsicle sticks out of the drawer.

“I’ve got some short wooden cooking spoons, if that helps,” she offered. "Second cabinet to the right."

When Dr. Cox returned to the couch, Elliot’s heart began to beat faster and faster.

“You know what?” she stopped him before he could touch her. “I’d love some alcohol."

Dr. Cox pulled away but did not move from where he sat. “With that bump on your head? I don’t think so."

“I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“Well clearly not,” Dr. Cox insisted. “What was that little show back there, Barbie? When your eyes rolled and you nearly collapsed. When we’re done here, I’ll print out an acute concussion evaluation form for you to fill out, and if you’re in the clear then we’ll talk about liquor. Hell, I’ll join you!"

“I’m not concussed,” Elliot insisted. “I’m capable of rational thought, Dr. Cox."

“If you were, you’d be in the ER right now!” he emphatically fired back.

“Like a broken record!” Elliot exclaimed.

Dr. Cox took a deep breath and toned down the forcefulness in his voice. “Do you want this, Elliot? It’s okay if you don’t want my help. But if you do, then I’m your doctor right now, and I need you to listen to me so I can give you the medical care you need."

Elliot reluctantly gestured towards her arm.

As Dr. Cox put on her splint, white hot pain travelled up her wrist. She didn’t realize she’d been crying until it was over.

“Is that it?” she looked up at him.

“That depends. Does it hurt anywhere else?"

“No,” Elliot bit her lip.

“We both know that’s not true,” he looked at her knowingly, and she shrunk back away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

“Look, I’m a doctor,” he tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to judge you. I’ve seen it all before."

“I- He-“ Elliot’s lip trembled and she stopped mid-sentence.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Cox reassured her. “You don’t have to say it."

Elliot looked up at him gratefully.

“Can you tell me how much it hurts on a scale of 1 to 10?” His eyes didn’t stray from her face.

Elliot shook her head no.

“Elliot. Barbie,” Dr. Cox pressed. “I know it’s hard, but I’m gonna need you to work with me here. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong."

“I’m fine,” she bit her lip again. “I’ll be fine. I just- I can’t."

“Shhh,” he soothed. “I’m not going to touch you without your permission. I just need to know how bad it is."

Elliot breathed deeply before speaking. “It’s a pretty high number."

Dr. Cox looked at her with concern.

“It’s not a concussion I don’t think. At least that’s not why I fell,” she whispered. “It just hurts to stand."

Dr. Cox furrowed his brow. There had been a lot of blood, and this new development was worrying. He wasn’t sure he could help her without making her uncomfortable, or making him uncomfortable for that matter. They had a working relationship, and he wasn’t trained for this.

“Can you tell me what the bleeding’s from?"

Elliot looked at him weakly. “You know what the bleeding’s from."

“What specifically?” his eyes drifted back to the blood drying on her pants.

This time she realized what he meant. “Oh. Um,” she forced the words out. “Nails probably. Maybe, um. It was dry."

There was probably tearing then. The wounds could be scratches that would heal on their own, but there could also be some cuts that needed stitches, and he wasn’t prepared to stitch her up himself.

“Barbie…” he said as calmly as he could. “I’m not equipped to handle this. And I think you should seriously consider getting a rape kit. What if you change your mind and eventually choose to pursue this in court? I can’t help you with that. I don’t have the training, or the tools."

Elliot flinched at the r word. “I won’t change my mind,” she snapped.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “No rape kit. But you’re still gonna need someone to fix you up, Barbie, and I can’t do any more for you here."

“Why not?” she answered petulantly.

"Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?” he asked gently.

“No,” she insisted angrily. “I already told you.

“You’re not understanding me,” he responded softly. “Am I driving you, or am I calling an ambulance?"

“Please no,” she grabbed his hand and begged. Tears welled in her eyes, and her breaths came in shorter and shorter intervals.

“Hey. Hey. Breathe.” Elliot squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. He brushed her hair out of her face with the hand she wasn’t grabbing. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

When she realized she wasn’t going to change his mind, the anger set in. “I’m not going,” she shoved him away from her.

“Ambulance it is,” he shrugged his shoulders and pulled out his phone, standing up.

“Wait!” Elliot cried out. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go with you."

He knelt down before her once more. “You’re going to be okay, you know that right?"

“What am I going to tell the others?” Elliot moaned miserably.

“You don’t have to tell them anything,” Dr. Cox offered. “We don’t have to go to Sacred Heart. We can drive out of town. You shouldn’t have to stay over night, and I’ll wait outside and drive you home when you’re done. You rest and heal until you’re feeling better, and I’ll cover your patients for a little while. How does that sound?"

“But-"

“And don’t say you want to get back to work any time soon,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Elliot scowled.

Dr. Cox offered his hand to Elliot and supported her waist with his other hands as she stood up on her own two wobbly feet.

“So what do you say we get out of here?”


End file.
